


Family

by Lanerose



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanerose/pseuds/Lanerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several years after Olivia has left Washington behind her, an unexpected visitor arrives on her doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pansypolaroid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansypolaroid/gifts).



> Note that this was written while season 2 was airing, so anything that happened after that in canon is not accounted for in this fic, although as of this note (June 2016) nothing has happened in canon that would necessarily affect this story. Just an FYI in case something happens later...

Olivia pulled the tongs out of the boiling water and set them aside. She set the timer for ten minutes and headed out into the living room, grabbing her mug of warm apple cider on the way. There was something wrong with the tree. There had been something wrong with the tree since it had been set up, which was why her husband and children had been putting up with the box of decorations sitting in the corner all week instead of returning them to the basement.

Something was missing, something not quite right. Christmas trees were always imperfect, true, but the dressing made all the difference. There were little popsicle stick sleighs with glitter and little faces grinning at her. There were beads, and the beautiful glass ornaments that had been bought on a family trip to Disney World, and the mundane ornaments that people gifted them over the years. There was even one from the White House and one from Congress, because apparently neither institute was above putting its mark on something that would be used on a quasi-religious symbol. And of course, there were lights. The bright, colorful ones that weren’t half as clean as white lights and promised only chaos of the best kind.

Olivia grabbed a string shiny green tinsel and tucked it in among the branches on the side of the tree furthest from the fireplace, wrapping it around branches and tucking the ends in on the side that face the window. She stepped back to the front of the tree to evaluate and smiled.

“Perfect,” she said.

The doorbell rang. Olivia took a sip of her cider and went to the door, opening it with a smile that fell when she saw her visitor standing on the other side of the screen door.

“Quinn...” Olivia said, and there words failed her.

“Hello, Olivia.”

Quinn had never been the most stunningly beautiful woman, but she now had a ragged scar running down the left side of her face that marred what beauty time hadn’t taken away. She had her coat off, carrying it over her arms, which held a basket of some sort. Snow had dusted Quinn’s hair and clothes, so she had certainly been standing outside for some time. Olivia wondered how long it had taken Quinn to decide to actually ring the bell.

“It’s been a long time,” Quinn said, smiling so brightly it hurt. Her eyes didn’t smile with her face, though, and the result was something closer to a grimace.

“That’s one way to describe it,” Olivia said. “Quinn, Huck told me that you’d betrayed us and that I should never expect to see you again, and I thought that he’d killed you until he promised me that he didn’t. A long time! Yes, it certainly has been that.”

Quinn watched Olivia’s hands as they flew through the air. Quinn winced a little, but her smile recovered immediately and she said hopefully, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Invite you in? Quinn, I have half a mind to call the police! I’d appreciate it if you could give me even one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

The timer in the kitchen, of course, chose this precise moment to start beeping.

“Because you don’t want to burn whatever you’re cooking?” Quinn said hopefully.

Olivia folded her arms in front of her chest. “I’m processing jam. It can wait five minutes. Also, removing my jam jars from the boiling water bath and calling the police are not mutually exclusive if I shut this door with you still on the other side of it.”

Olivia paused.

“Also,” she added after a moment, “that would prevent my house from getting any chillier then it already has. Unsurprisingly, with this kind of snow, it’s hard to keep the house warm without spending a small fortune on oil.”

Quinn looked at her feet, the smile falling away. Her voice was very small as she said, “... because you fix things. And I need you to fix something for me.”

“No.” Olivia said firmly, and there were tears in Quinn’s eyes that did nothing to stop Olivia’s words from pouring out. “I do not fix things any more. I am out of the fixing business. Gone, done, and anyone who told you otherwise or anything that you may have thought to the contrary is wrong. I don’t fix anything anymore except the occasional lunch for my children - my children, who are due back shortly and who I frankly don’t want to meet you - and jam. And it’s not even really fixing jam, is it, it’s making jam or maybe cooking it at a stretch.”

“Please, Olivia,” Quinn said, and the tears threatened to bubble over onto her face. “I used to know that I could come to you with anything no matter how bad and you could fix it, that no matter what had happened in the world and no matter what was wrong, you could find some way to fix it. And I’ve made such an awful mess and there’s no way that I can think of to make it right and I just don’t know what to do any more and I am begging you, Olivia, I am begging you, please, please at least here what’s happened before you tell me that there is nothing that you can do because if there is nothing that you can do then there is nothing that anyone can do and that scares me more than I can say. So please, please don’t tell me that there’s nothing -“

“Quinn...” Olivia said, and god, she wished that she wasn’t a sucker for people in pain and needing to make that right. It didn’t help that Olivia was still all too aware that whatever became of Quinn could all be traced back to her. Olivia and the scheme to get Fitz into the White House had killed any chance that Quinn had ever had at being normal, and then Olivia just had to introduce Quinn to Huck, which had certainly not managed to make anyone’s life any better at any point.

There was a sound then. A soft cry. The kind of sound that every mother, Olivia included, becomes oversensitized to after awhile. Olivia looked down at the basket that Quinn was carrying and without really thinking about it unlocked the screen and pulled Quinn inside, closing the door behind them and plucking the basket from the younger woman’s hands.

The tiny little girl in the basket had been wrapped carefully in a thick pink wool blanket. Her fingers were so tiny underneath Olivia’s, and cold from having been outside in the storm. She talked to the angels while Olivia watched, tiny red lips moving soundlessly while tiny eyes remained closed. She had a little pink cap on, and if she was more than a month old, Olivia was no judge of such things.

Olivia scooped the little girl up, cradling her as she had her own children and looked at Quinn.

Quinn smiled. “Her name is Emma.”


	2. Chapter 2

Olivia grabbed the basket and carried it into the kitchen, setting it down on the counter.

"Please just tell me that you didn't kidnap her," she said as she settled the baby back into the basket and began pulling the processed jam jars from the water bath.

"No!  No no no, it's not like that."  Quinn shook her head.  Her face was glowing, eyes impossibly (disturbingly) wide.  Her voice when she continued was shy.  "She's mine."

The tongs that Olivia had been using clattered as they fell against the pot.

"Her father..." Quinn hesitated.  "Her father doesn't know." 

The words, now started, flowed out of Quinn in a rush.  "Did you know it isn't that hard to hide a pregnancy?  Everyone expects you to be gone for nine months, but if you wait after you find out to disappear until you start really showing, you can be gone just a couple of months.  Drink mocktails, the occasional glass of wine, keep buying the right supplies if you know what I mean - not hard.  Not really easy, I suppose, but I thought it would be a lot more difficult."

Olivia grabbed the tongs again and resumed taking the jars out.  She waited a moment, and then said, "Well, I'm happy for you, Quinn.  But I'm not sure why you came here, or what it is that you're expecting me to do."

Olivia glanced at Quinn from the corner of her eye, watching as the flush faded from her cheeks and her hands became still, clasped together in front of her.

"Quinn?" Olivia prompted.

The jam jars were all out of the bath now, and Olivia set the tongs down and turned to face her former employee.

"I need you to hide her."  Quinn said eventually.

"From who?" Olivia asked, busying herself with moving the water bath to the sink to dump out the water.  Steam rushed into her face as the water flowed down the drain.  She set the pot aside, crossed her arms, and turned back to Quinn.  "Who do I need to hide your daughter from, Quinn?"

The kitchen fell silent for a moment, and then -

"Me." 

The word was soft, and sad, and Quinn looked everywhere but at Olivia after it slipped out.  Quinn's fingers untangled, hands sliding up along her arms until her arms were folded across her chest, hugging herself with her eyes close.

"I can't take care of her, Liv."  Quinn bit her lip.  "Not the way that a mother should, anyway.  And if I know where she is I will never leave her along.  I can't do that.  I know I can't do that.  And I'm afraid that some day I'll just need to have her back because I love her so much and then I'll do something terrible to the people who take her in, and in my head they're the nicest people anyone could ever want for parents, good parents, and so I can't -"

"Why can't you leave her with her father?"  Olivia interrupted.

Quinn looked up, startled. 

"Why do you think?" She asked, and Olivia could admit (if only to herself) that she could think of more than one reason why. 

In the living room, the clock began to chime.  Seven o'clock.  Olivia's husband and the children would be home any minute.

"If I do this," Olivia said, and she held up her hand when Quinn started to smile. 

"If I do this," Olivia repeated, hand still outstretched, "then I never see you again.  Do you understand me?  You do not come back here.  Not for anything.  I don't care if you walk out my front door and change your mind, not even if it's five minutes from now.  I don't care if you are dying of cancer and it's your last wish to see her again.  You do not come here. _Ever_. Again."

Quinn's face lit up as though Christmas morning had come early.  

"Yes!  Yes, yes, thank you Olivia!"  Quinn came around the table and hugged Olivia, fast enough that Olivia did not have the opportunity to wave her off.  The hug was quick, though, and then Quinn was peering into the basket.  She gathered Emma into her arms, dropping a kiss on the girl's forehead.  "I love you, Emma.  Mama is leaving you because she loves you, but she loves you always.  Always always."

Quinn brushed a lock of hair behind Emma's ear.  Then she turned and look at Olivia.  After a moment, she held Emma out to Olivia.

"Goodbye, Olivia."  Quinn smiled once more, then turned and ran through the living room and out the front door, pulling it shut behind her.

Olivia followed Quinn to the door at a more sedate pace, locking the door with a firm click.  She looked out the window, but Quinn had already vanished into the night, a fast-fading track of footsteps the only sign (apart from Emma) that she had ever been there at all.

"Goodbye, Quinn," Olivia said softly. 

She cuddled Emma close to her, looking down at that tiny face and so small frame in her arms. The timer had turned on the lights on the tree, and the living room sparkled between the warm glow of the fire and the soft colors from the tree.   Emma smiled in her sleep, her fingers latching onto Olivia's pinky and trying to curl around it as best they could.

Olivia sighed.  "Fitz is going to kill me."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually know anything about making jam, so please excuse if I've mucked up the details. I used this website as a reference: http://www.pickyourown.org/jamnosugar.htm
> 
> Also, Happy Yuletide!


End file.
